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The sad tale of Frederick Charles Herobrine
NOTE: Firtsly, I probably won't write any more of this. I stopped writing it the day before Halloween last year and have moved on to other things now. Secondly, this does have some disturbing content and touchy themes, so reader discression is advised. This doesn't mean I'll stop drawing or role-playing as Frederick, I still do all the time, but writing his backstory began to feel more like a chore than a hobby, so I have stopped. Chapter 1 KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK!!! Harold opened the door to find a most unusual delivery had been made by Mr Green. On his doorstep lay a ragged figure with tattered, feathered wings wearing nothing but a pair of grey, formal trousers that were torn to shreds. Long, brown hair bordered his ashen face, which was sparsely dotted with freckles. His eyes were wide and grey, and his whole skinny body was covered in bloodstains. "I just went out to feed the pheasants and I found him wandering around the fields. Looked all lost and confused, the poor thing. I recognized him as one of yours and brought him here." explained Mr Green. Mr Green was a farmer who lived locally. He had hundreds of fields, in some of which wild pheasants strutted about and made their nests. Mr Green didn't keep any animals, but these pheasants were considered as his. "D-daddy!" The boy cried, and proceeded to hug Harold's leg, wiping a mixture of blood and saliva down Harold's trousers. He winced. Breathing a long sigh, he shook him off, for the boy was indeed his son, and had disgraced him once again. "Frederick," Harold sighed, again, because he sighs quite a lot, "what have you been doing to get so cut? And whatever it is, please don't do it again." However, he was wrong. Frederick may have been covered in blood, but after realizing he wasn't cut Harold had a sinking feeling as he began to realize what happened. He bent down so he was level with Frederick, who was now licking his hands clean. "Frederick," he said again in a low, stern voice, "what did you do in the fields." He stared deep into his son's eyes, waiting for an answer. "I... I was playing with the chickens..." He replied, his wide grin geltting even wider, if that was even possible. It took a while for Harold and Mr Green to realise what had happened. Their fears were confirmed when Mr Green pulled out a slender, green tail feather from Frederick's hair... "Oh d-dear..." Gasped Mr Green shakily. As he held the feather close to his chest, tears formed in his eyes. Harold didn't quite know what to say. Eventually, he was able to form the words "I am so deeply sorry, Mr Green, and I'm sure Frederick is too." He gave a stern glance at Frederick, but Frederick just stood up started laughing, which was most unhelpful. "Why should I be sorry?" He replied, 'I've been a good boy!!!" Before he carried on laughing and collapsed onto the doorframe. "No! You have not been good! This is the complete opposite of good! You've been very bad! Bad boy! Not good! Not good at all!" Harold yelled, trying to get it through Frederick's mind that he was in trouble. Immediately after hearing the words 'bad boy', Frederick's face fell. He stopped laughing and his lip began to quiver. He dashed inside the house and up the stairs. "What's up with him?" Asked Mr Green solomly through his silent tears. "Nothing," Replied Harold, giving another sigh, "he just gets a bit... Excited..." Mr Green and Harold exchanged nervous glances. They both knew what was really up with Frederick... Chapter 2 Frederick was in his room, tearing at the curtains of his four poster bed with his skinny arms. He had now got dressed, and was wearing a black tailcoat with a white shirt underneath and a cravat, which was slightly chewed. Halfway through feeling sorry for himself, he had decided that he wasn't the one in the wrong. No, he had only tried to have fun, as the last few weeks had been pretty boring. If his father didn't like his two day trip to Mr Green's fields then tough, he would just have to watch as all hell broke loose in the bedroom. He was just about to start gnawing on the foot of the bed, when Beverly walked in tentatively. Beverly was a very shy maid, about 19 years old, but she looked 16. Her wavy pink hair was tied into two ponytails, one either side of her head, and her wide, aquamarine eyes made it look as if she was always worried about something. "E-excuse me, Master Frederick," she called in her soft, quiet voice, "but your supper is ready, and I know how you don't like it cold." Frederick turned his head to the side slightly, as if he was having trouble understanding what she wanted. "Your supper is ready, Frederick." She repeated. Frederick stood up and straightened his coat. "Yes, yes, I will be there." He replied sharply. He removed a stray feather from his hair that had come from his pillow, which he had torn apart, and made his way downstairs. Supper that night was a sollom affair. There wasn't much to talk about other than Frederick's 'holiday', and no-one wanted to talk about that. "So, Steven," Harold said, trying to start a conversion, "how have things been for you?" Steven was Frederick's brother; a tall boy of 16 with short, brown hair and thin, purple eyes. He was a polite, quiet boy, yet a little stupid. Despite being of muscular build he rarely needed to use his strength. Before Steven could answer his father's question, Frederick butted in. "Nothing interesting, probably," he snorted sarcastically, "the only exciting thing that's ever happened to him is when he punched Francis." Ah, yes, he could remember that moment quite well, when his brother had had a sudden flash of anger and had lashed out on their guest. This was something all to common for Frederick himself, but Steven? No, that was quite a rare spectacle. Chapter 3 He remembered that moment in great detail, right down to the sharp smell of Francis' aftershave. Frederick had been sitting in one of the many hallways of their home, enjoying a recently caught snack, when he was approached by a tall boy in a black suit, with slick, black hair and piercing green eyes. This was Francis. "Hello, little lunatic." He sneered sarcastically. Frederick snarled and turned away; he didn't want him to try to eat his food. Despite this, however, Francis noticed that Frederick was holding something, and he lent over him in order to see what it was. "Ooo, what's that you have there?" He asked. He bent over further, and saw that Frederick was holding a dead squirrel, with several bites taken out of it... Frederick let out a loud hiss and curled up over the squirrel, as Francis tried not to be sick. After a few minutes of retching, he bent down next to Frederick. "You really are just as crazy as they say, aren't you?" Francis sighed, and attempted to give Frederick a pat on the back. This just resulted in Frederick snapping at Francis' hand, who pulled it away just in time. He fled, leaving Frederick to eat his snack in peace. By the time Francis got back, Frederick had finished eating and was now licking the blood off of his fingers. He appeared to be arguing with Steven, which got Frederick's attention. Steven didn't often shout, and certainly never at guests. He only shouted in his sleep, or when things got too loud and he needed to be heard. Frederick span round to get a better look at what was going on. "L-look, I only wanted to see if it was a family thing... These things tend to be-" "THERE IS NOTHING WRONG WITH MY FAMILY!" "It tends to be inherited... I was just wondering where he, that is to say, your brother-" "WHY ARE YOU BRINGING HIM INTO THIS?! THIS HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH HIM!" Francis began to become a little angry too, after he remembered what Steven was usually like. "I'm pretty sure this has everything to do with him!" "IF YOU DON'T LIKE MY FAMILY YOU CAN GET OUT OF OUR HOUSE!" "I like the house, I just don't like sharing it with your nutcase brother!" That was the last straw. Steven completely lost it. Letting out a tremendously loud roaring sound, he swung his fist and hit Francis right in the face. Francis gave a manly yelp and fell to the floor, and Frederick burst out laughing, as seeing Francis getting his comeuppance pleased him. He watched as Francis scrambled to his feet, a little dazed, and make off down the hallway. He couldn't quite remember the rest, because he was in such hysterics laughing that he wasn't paying attention to what was going on around him. All he remembered past the moment Francis stood up was feeling a hand on his shoulder, and someone was talking to him, although he couldn't make out what they were saying over the sound of his own laughter. When he eventually came back to his senses, he discovered that the hand and voice had belonged to Steven, who had been crying, and judging by the amount of tears, he had been crying since he had began shouting... Chapter 4 That wasn't quite how Steven remembered the event. Steven didn't remember much of it, to him it was mostly a blur, but what he could remember he would surely never forget. He could recall meeting Francis in a hallway, examining the paintings on the walls of Steven's ancestors. His family went way back; a long line of valkyrian ancestors that had lived in the mansion for thousands if years. Steven was the first non valkyre to be born in the family, as his mother was human. Sadly, she had fallen ill whilst pregnant with Frederick, and died shortly after his birth. "What are you doing?" Steven asked Francis. Shocked at hearing Steven's voice, Francis spun round to come face to face with Steven. "Oh, I was just trying to, *ahem*, find out where 'it' started." Replied Francis, all to casually. "Where what started, Francis?" Steven asked, his voice raised slightly. He had an idea what Francis was talking about, and didn't like what he was thinking. "Oh, you know..." Francis replied; he dropped his voice to a whisper "...Frederick's condition..." That was it. Steven completely lost it. All he could remember from that moment on was anger, pure anger. He felt like he wanted to hurt Francis really bad... He shook the memories from his mind and carried on eating, trying hold back his tears, yet a single tear was able to escape. It slid softly down his sharp cheek and caught on a bit of stubble. Realising Steve was upset, Frederick started whining and crying loudly. He was more than happy to see others upset, in fact, he found it rather funnChapter 5y, but there was something inside him that hated seeing his brother crying. After all, Steve was his favourite person. Chapter 5 "I think it's time you went to bed, Frederick, after all, it's been a long few days for you, hasn't it?" Harold suggested, placing a hand on his son's shoulder. Frederick sighed and left the room, his supper unfinished, and went to get some well-needed rest. He decided he would sleep fully-clothed, as getting changed would take some time, and he was surprisingly tired. He yelled "GOODNIGHT!" so everyone knew they wouldn't see him until morning (if they did, it was most likely an imposter), and reached underneath his bed and retrieved a dusty, cardboard box containing his most treasured possession. After rummaging through the less important objects inside the box, he found what he was looking for: the remains of the first creature he had ever killed. Frederick could not go to sleep without this small bird skeleton that he cared so much for. With the skeleton clutched in his hand and the reassurance that he would remain undisturbed, he closed his eyes and drifted off, dreaming of the past two days, and how fun it had been, chasing all those pheasants... "Frederick, today we are having guests round, so you're going to have to take a bath." After hearing these words come from his father's mouth, Frederick began screaming. Loudly. He shouted and growled and hissed and generally made a fuss. The two maids, Anna and Beverley, grabbed him by the arms and dragged him into the bathroom. Oh, how he loathed the lather! He emerged from the affair smelling of nothing but lavender and with fluffy hair that stuck up in spikes. He was most displeased. As punishment, he bit Anna hard on the hand, to which she replied with a slap. At half past ten the guests arrived, and it was not who Frederick expected... When they were young, Frederick and Steven were friends with a girl named Alexia. Oh, the times they had! She was like a sister to them! Well, a sister who they saw once every Sunday. It had been that way until Frederick's 12th birthday party, where he pushed her down a well and since that moment had stopped visiting, for her own personal safety. However, today it appeared she was taking a risk. There she stood, a beautiful painting framed by the doorframe, the sunlight rippling on her ginger hair like a halo, sparkling on her poison green eyes. Her golden wings shone with a fiery aura that sparkled off of her pale green dress. Looking at her made Frederick feel... Strange. He felt bad for pushing her into the well three years ago, despite the fact that he found it most amusing at the time. He also felt like he wanted to protect her from harm, but at the same time he wanted to chase her around with a lighted stick until he caught up with her and burnt her. These conflicting feelings made him feel sick, so he ran back inside and vomited into a vase. Steven also saw pure beauty in Alexia, only he knew why. He knew how to recognise the feeling of love, unlike Frederick... Chapter 6 Frederick was not present at lunch. Instead, he sat on the second-to-bottom stair of one of the staircases and made whiny retching sounds. He could not comprehend the feelings he has just experienced towards Alexia, and his mind had come to one conclusion: he was ill. After all, he had been sick shortly after. But, no. That can't have been it. He showed no symptoms of having any illness that he knew of, and he had actually felt nice looking at Alexia. Meanwhile, Alexia was having a wonderful time with Steven. They had decided to have their lunch in the garden, by the lake, as if they were picnicking. They had finished the main course and were now sharing a bowl of strawberries covered in syrup, whilst chatting about this, that and the other. Harold didn't mind; he ate in the dining room with Alexia's parents whilst keeping an eye on the picnicking couple to make sure they didn't get up to any... Mischief... Moved by hunger to do something about it, Frederick entered the dining room and walked up to his father. "What is it, Frederick?" He asked in his usual, monotone voice. "C-could I... Perhaps... Have s-s-something to eat?" Whimpered Frederick in a voice so small it was barely heard. "Why, of course! You haven't eaten a thing!" Harold replied, trying to sound cheerful around his son. Frederick immediately helped himself to five ribs and a chicken drumstick and began to eat ravenously. "I thought you were out there with the other two." Alexia's father said in his booming, hearty voice, gesturing out of the window. Frederick stopped eating and made his way towards the window. He was entranced by Alexia frolicking in the garden, the afternoon sun highlighting her perfections. He let out a long, moaning sigh and scraped his long fingernails against the glass. He longed to be out with her, soaking up the beauty of the gorgeous sunlight, watching her dance and play from up close; but he had a feeling that if he came out, she would no longer be happy, and begin to feel anxious and scared. He felt he wanted to let her know that he was a friend, and that he was sorry for what he had done all those years ago, but he didn't understand what he could do to show her he meant no harm. That’s when he had the gift idea. He would give her something special, something that she would love. But what does she like? Ah, yes, that was the fundamental question. Hmm… “I’ve got it!” he cried, causing the people around him to stop and stare. Harold just waved it off and everyone returned to eating. Frederick had decided that he would give her his most prized possession, as he loved her so. He instantly dashed up to his bedroom, grabbed the box under his bed and retrieved the dusty old bird skeleton… Chapter 7 Alexia had mixed emotions. Frederick had just given her a gift, something he'd never done before. Such an act of compassion... Did this mean he was getting better? However, on the other end of the scale, he had just handed her the remains of a creature that had decomposed long ago, it's fragile bones now being held together by pieces of thread. "This is for you..." Frederick explained nervously, "it was the first thing I... I ever..." He froze. He also had mixed emotions. He couldn't decide what he loved more, Alexia or the bird. If he kept the bird, Alexia might think that he didn't like her anymore because he didn't give her a gift. If he gave the bird to Alexia, she would have the first creature he ever killed, and that meant he wouldn't be able to see it anymore. It's not her kill, why should she have it? In a panic Frederick threw the skeleton onto her lap and recoiled, waiting for a response. He then realised what a mistake he had made as he watched her gently pick it up, and he quickly exclaimed: "But you can't keep it forever! It's... It's... It's... Just... For borrowing...?" Alexia frowned. She chose her words carefully. "This is a... um... lovely gift, Frederick, and I'm... flattered that you thought of me, but..." She bit her lip, and thought very carefully about her next words. "Wouldn't you prefer to keep it? I mean, after all, it means a lot to you and it's a big ask, getting me to look after it. What if I were to break it or lose it? That would never do. Why don't you go put this in a special, safe place? After all, this represents a... monumental... day of your life, it should be cherished!" She forced a smile at Frederick, who sat there starring. She could tell lots of thoughts were swimming through his mind. A frown spread across his face, and he began making odd gurgling whining sounds. He lifted his hands to his head and span round so he was no longer facing Alexia. Alexia reached over to put her hand on his shoulder, but he batted it away with his wing and collapsed onto the floor in a ball, still making noises. "I'm sorry" she apologised. She placed the skeleton on the grass next to him and took a few steps away, wondering whether to tell someone what had just happened. To be honest, she didn't quite know what was going on herself... Chapter 8 Frederick slept fully clothed again. He lay there snivelling, tears soaking the matress. It had been his only chance to redeem himself, to become more than just friends, and what had he done? Panicked and collapsed in front of her and vomited all over her new dress. "If that wasn't a tremendous failure, I don't know what is, she'll never like me now!" He cried to himself, and threw his head into the pillow. There was a quiet knock on the door, and as Frederick lifted up his head, he saw the bird skeleton lying discarded on his bedside table. He stared into the empty sockets that once contained the bird's eyes, before he had eaten them, they seemed to suck up the life from everything around. The longer he started, the wider the eyes seemed to become, and blood began to pour from them, like crimson tears. His own eyes began to close from tiredness, as he slowly began drifting off to a comforting sleep. He was awoken sharply by another knock on the door, and he saw the bird's eye sockets had returned to their natural size and were no longer bleeding, luckily. "Come in" he moaned to whoever was outside. The door creaked open slowly, and the head of Beverly peered in. Her sparkling eyes panned the room as if she were checking for danger, before her whole body emerged and she made her way over to the bed slowly, her dress making a soft swishing sound as it glided around her ankles. She sat down next to him, perching on the edge of the bed as he took up a lot of space with his outstretched, broken wings. "What's the matter, master Frederick? I heard you crying and I wanted to help," Beverly explained. Frederick rolled over onto his back. "Alexia didn't want my bird," he sighed, "and it's my most precious thing and I wanted to give it to her because I think she's more precious and special than it and I..." He stopped forming words and began to make gurgly growling sounds. Beverly placed her hand on his forehead and he stopped. "Why, you do feel warm, why don't you take your coat off? That should help cool you down." He did as the maid advised and lay back down, his eyelids dropping under the weight of their tiredness. "Why didn't she like it?" He asked, clawing at her apron with his long fingernails. "Well... I don't think it's that she didn't like it... I think it's got more to do with the fact that... That is to say... Maybe she would prefer something a little less... Skeletal...?" Frederick stopped moving immediately. He had another plan. The plan was somewhat the same as the last, he would still give Alexia a gift. Only this time, he would give her something a little fresher... Chapter 9 Sunday rolled around again, and Frederick was confident he had the perfect gift. This was going to be the least skeletal bird ever, for he had removed all of the bones... It had been a difficult task, for the bones were small and fiddly. This, coupled with the task of sewing it up again, meant it had taken him a whole week to prepare it. He kept it fresh with salt from the kitchen, because he heard salt was good for preserving things. Frederick wasn't the only one with a gift for Alexia, for Steven had a more trational present; a bouquet of roses. Frederick had been waiting by the door all day for Alexia, but when she did arive, he felt that strange, nervous feeling in his stomach and his mouth became dry, so he threw the bird into her hands and ran off to be sick in another vase. When he was feeling better, he went to look for Alexia to see if she liked his gift. He found her in the library with Steven, sitting with him. She was holding the roses Steven had given her, and they were both laughing. Frederick suddenly felt like he didn't belong here, and that he probably shouldn't talk to Alexia. He's never liked the library; at least not after a big, green horse charged at him when he was gnawing the case of a book. Or, at least, that's what he thought happened, because his father was convinced that there was nothing there. He claimed Frederick's mind was just playing tricks on him, whatever that meant. Cautiously, so not to awaken the horse, he made his way towards the two, who stopped talking when they saw him. "Alexia, did you like my gift?" He asked. "Well... Yes, thank you very much. I put it in the carage I arrived in for safekeeping." She lied, smiling at him. Frederick scowled. He could tell she was lying. He knew that the bird occasionally dripped blood from the seams, and her hands were clean, as if she had dropped it as soon as he'd left, not carried it to the carage as she had described. "Tell me the truth!" He growled, tears forming in his eyes. Alexia looked to the floor and sighed. She really didn't want to hurt his feelings, but he had asked for the truth. She remembered when they were young, and Frederick losing at card games and getting, well, a little more than upset. She would have to be careful. "Listen, Frederick, I appreciate your gifts and am happy that you thought of me, it's just... I don't think birds are a good gift..." "Then I'll get Like I said, I will most likely never finish this, as I have lost interest. Category:Fanfictions